I was diagnosed with Autism the day after my 53rd birthday. One reasons it took so long was because when I first learned about Autism in college it was not a diagnosis to seek out. I learned about autism in a psych 101 class and it scared me how many of the symptoms I related to. Like banging your head. I was a headbanger from about 5 until my early 20s. (fill in your own heavy metal joke.) There were other symptoms, but that’s the one that’s stuck with me all these years. But I couldn’t be autistic. The autistic kids in the textbooks and films could barely communicate or interact with people. Then we talked about schizophrenia and some of those symptoms hit home as well. We know now that there’s overlap, but at the time all I knew was that I related to these people and I didn’t want anyone to know. Looking back with what I’ve learned over this last year, I know I masked before then. But I see that as the turning point where the mask became more of a permanent part of daily life.

Letting go of that fear of being labeled autistic was the toughest part of getting diagnosed. It was learning about aspergers that lead me to a more modern understanding of autism and let me look for help. I’m learning to embrace being autistic and have started to bring it up more openly at work. But it’s difficult. In some ways it’s been like going through the stages of grief. I spent decades in denial. At times I got angry with myself, even if I didn’t know why. While I don’t think I did any bargaining, it was depression that lead me down the path to seek help. Having a diagnosis put me in a better place, and I’m still navigating acceptance and what that means.

I don’t wonder what life would have been like if I had been diagnosed all those years ago. I wonder what it would have been like if I had the same understanding of autism back then that I do now.